Lonely Child
by mew-tsubaki
Summary: Oneshot, slash. Matsukawa may be older by one month, but sometimes the things Watari says make him feel as though he's the one getting left behind. .::established!Matsuwata::. *followed by "Content Adult"*
**Lonely Child**

A Haikyuu! oneshot

by mew-tsubaki

Note: The _Haikyuu!_ characters belong to Furudate Haruichi-sensei, not to me. Some Matsuwata angst because I wanted to cry or something, I dunno. ;w; Read, review, and enjoy!

\- ^-^3

My fingers slip over the keys, providing the quiet clicking in the relative silence of my room. I don't really want to type, but it's become late at night, so it's out of necessity more than anything else. Still, I pause for a moment and maximize the small window set in the bottom right corner of my computer's screen.

Shinji smiles back at me. He presses a finger to his lips and types his response, which appears in our chat instantly, and he gives me a second to read it.

I do and sigh. "Really?" I mumble lowly. "You're going to scold me about getting to bed?"

He raises his eyebrows, providing me with his mother hen look which I'm sure will take him far when he becomes Yahaba's vice-captain. "It's after eleven, Matsukawa-san," he whispers. He sighs, too, but it's an amusing sound, because it's one only I ever hear. He's always on such good behavior in front of the others, but he lets me see his rare exasperated side.

I can't help it. I snort loudly, trying to cover my laugh.

"Oi, Issei! I thought I heard you on your keyboard!" my older sister barks through my bedroom door. "Go the hell to bed!"

I roll my eyes and rest my cheek in my palm, leaning forward on my desk as Shinji tries not to laugh himself.

"Kako-san is more like a mother than a sister," he comments, and I watch him put his things away for the night. Our time together doing homework is almost at an end.

"'Overlord' is what I tend to think," I confess, and my eyes follow his every movement. Him pushing back in his blue swivel chair, twisting to the left to stack his spiral notebooks neatly, the notebooks he'll need for tomorrow, the ones he'll need for the day after…pausing to zip up his thin pencil pouch, the mint green one he bought one of the first times we went out together, shopping, not necessarily for anything in particular but just for fun, the same day I bought one of those big, clunky alphabet keychains, a yellow "S," when he wasn't looking, because I couldn't deny the impulse…facing the screen again, adjusting the webcam on top of his desktop for the fifth time tonight, as if trying to give me the perfect shot of him, as if any frame I see him in could be anything but perfect…grinning as his hand returns to its place on his mouse, knowing he's getting ready to log out after he tells me goodnight, in a voice so soft that I'm never going to forget for the rest of my life.

"You'll see me tomorrow at school, Matsukawa-san," he reminds me, and there's mirth in his eyes, as if he's forever amused by his clingy senpai—not that he's complained about me before, even after first learning that ages ago, three weeks into dating me.

"Lunch," I remind him, my cursor nowhere near the logout button.

"Of course we'll eat together," he confirms, so easily, as if he does this all the time…and maybe he does, because he indulges me in all the chances we have to be together at school. In the clubroom, at practice, during lunch, walking home partway after school—Shinji's a good boyfriend. And, true to his nature, he smiles gently at me and says, "Goodnight, Matsukawa-san."

"…'night," I mutter, my heart sinking in my chest and crushing my stomach, trying to sink further, further, further as the screen goes black. My goodbyes always feel so impersonal when I can't add "Watari" after them, not when I really want to say "Shinji." Yet, somehow, I think as I look at the black screen before turning everything off myself and reflect on his parting, I get the sense that use of first names is banned between us. And all I can think about is how unfair that is.

\- ^-^3

My fingers tingle as the teacher winds down fourth period, knowing the bell's about to ring, signaling that wonderful halfway point of the day. And, no sooner does sensei get his last comment out than does the bell toll.

I make a beeline for the roof, knowing everyone will be there. Hanamaki meets me at the stairs and holds up a plastic bag. "Thanks," I say as he tosses me a yakisoba bread.

"You owe me," he corrects, opening the rooftop door, and already we can hear the others' voices. "I legit _ran_ from my classroom to buy our lunches."

I roll my eyes; I don't have it in me to remind him that his classroom is closer to the main staircase and so closer to the sandwich vendor. Besides, I scrounge up the necessary coins and pass them to Hanamaki before briefly pushing everything out of my mind when my eyes land on Shinji.

He's talking with Yahaba, but he senses my gaze and turns his head. His smile is brighter than the stark white clouds on a gray day like this, so it almost hurts to look. But I do anyway and take my rightful seat beside him, to his left, opposite where Iwaizumi sits, pretending to ignore Oikawa as our captain launches into a soliloquy about me and Hanamaki being late.

It's weird to me to think about what lunch was like a year or two ago. Two years ago, it was just Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, and me, going along with Oikawa's pushiness as we tried to become friends outside of volleyball club, as Hanamaki and I tried exploring and came to the wrong conclusion that maybe we should be an item. A year ago, it was the four of us, tight as if we'd all been childhood friends and not just Oikawa and Iwaizumi, joined occasionally by Yahaba and Shinji, Yahaba when he came to cry to us about Kyoutani's terrible personality and Shinji back before he was "Shinji" to me…but when his charm was starting to work on me already, unbeknownst to him.

"Matsukawa-san?" he says, and I'm reminded that he's "Shinji" to me now, even if I haven't said anything like that to him yet. Gods, his eyes are big. Brown–gray, soft like warm marble stone…and on me.

I smile and unwrap my sandwich. I point to his bento with it, encouraging him to eat.

Shinji chuckles, very slightly, but he knows not to worry about me, that nothing's troubling me…

…well, not really, at least.

Oikawa's lecture about my and Hanamaki's tardiness ends when Yahaba makes a snide remark about Oikawa planning all our moves like a chess player, and all hell breaks loose as Hanamaki runs with the metaphor and teases our captain mercilessly. Oikawa, unsurprisingly, receives no aid from Iwaizumi, who looks as done as ever with him.

Really, though, I take another bite of my sandwich and let the saltiness of the noodles overtake my senses as my thoughts wander. My eyes follow the glare Oikawa shoots Iwaizumi and the laugh he gets in return. Then my eyes flicker left, catching the covert high-five Hanamaki pulls from Yahaba, seeing them snicker while Hanamaki's cheeks turn red and Yahaba pretends not to notice. Neither pair's fooling anyone.

Yet…I'm envious. Just a little. Frankly, our friends are stupid—in a good way. These four are stupid enough to believe in forever. Oikawa believes he and Iwaizumi were born attached at the hip and so they'll die attached at the hip, and Hanamaki's told me about half a dozen times that he'll follow Yahaba wherever so long as Yahaba lets him.

And me? I'm an idiot like them.

But Shinji isn't.

My shoulders sag, thinking it unfair, but I don't let my disappointment show on my face…not too much.

Shinji bumps his arm against mine and places his hand, palm up, on the ground between our legs. He raises his eyebrows—in concern this time, different from last night—and subtly purses his lips. He almost looks anxious. It's kind of heartening.

So I give in and slide my free hand in his, marveling as always at how much bigger my palm is compare to his, how much darker his complexion is compared to mine.

Shinji gives my hand a squeeze before resuming eating and I think this, too, is unfair. Being affectionate like this while making me believe I love him more than he loves me. Or maybe it's just unfair how I've been pulled into this love with tunnel vision and can't see or think of anything that's not him.

\- ^-^3

My fingers stiffen around my chopsticks halfway between my dish and my mouth. This always happens every time one of my parents brings up The Subject.

"You said the Spring High preliminaries are next month, correct, Issei?" my mother asks. She already asked if we third years are participating, and of course I'd nodded.

I nod again.

"Well, at least there's still time left in the school year after them," my father says. "You can play in them, but you need to focus on your studies only afterwards."

I don't interject about what happens if we win and have to play in the Spring High itself in January.

"And we have all the study materials you need, so you don't have to spend extra time in the school's library," he adds. Planning my life as he eats—it's a surprise he pauses long enough to chew with his mouth closed. "So come home directly after classes."

I neither agree with nor reject his notion. I simply go for a second helping of nikujaga. Well, even if I have to hear this spiel again, it's nice to have meat tonight.

"Hey, Issei, your matches are during the morning, right?" Kako asks.

She's my sister…and isn't as strict as our parents, so I give her the benefit of the doubt and glance at her before nodding.

But she doesn't meet my eyes and sighs. "Then we can't make it. That's during prime business hours. We can't close the pharmacy just for a game."

To be honest, I'm not surprised to hear any of this, and I finish dinner ahead of the rest of them. I'm excused to my room under the guise of getting "extra studying" in, but the first thing I do is reach for my phone after I close my bedroom door.

There's a reminder text from Iwaizumi about morning practice. Oikawa sent me a link to his latest interview about the upcoming prelims. Hanamaki's sent me two dumb jokes, and a third one comes in as I send him a laugh. Then I bring up Shinji's contact and ask if he's online. He sends just a quick "Yep."

I don't even bother reaching for my homework; I know I'm not getting anything done tonight. I jostle the mouse and the screen hums to life. In a matter of seconds, I'm logged in to video chat with Shinji, and it's such a relief to see his face. I mean, _hell_. A year ago, I knew I liked him. Now? I know I love him. That's what this is, right? When someone can flip that switch in you? When you know everything's going to be better once you see or speak to them? When you know everything already _is_ better when you see or speak to them?

Of course, I try not to let my excitement, let my eagerness leak into my voice. "Hey," I say, and I bite the left side of my bottom lip in an effort to tame the dumb grin brought to my face at hearing his voice.

"Hi, Matsukawa-san." His smile's gentle. "That was quick. When you asked if I was on, I thought it meant we'd be doing the usual." His eyes dart around the screen, no doubt looking for the mess pile I tend to call homework. "So…?"

"Ahh, I'm good. I can take care of it in the morning," I reply, hiding my face and knowing what a terrible example I'm setting as a senior.

"Hey."

I keep my face behind the arm resting across my desk.

"Matsukawa-san."

I peek at Shinji.

He furrows his brow. "Is something the matter?"

I know Oikawa and Hanamaki are perceptive, but it still mystifies me that Shinji can pick up on the things that they normally miss. I pause and stare back at Shinji for a while, maybe almost a full minute, before releasing a long breath. "…it's…nothing."

He cocks his head not to the side but forward, indicating that he knows I'm fibbing and that he's waiting for the real story.

"It's just the usual." "The usual," I say, even though I've only explained (read: bitched) about The Subject twice to Shinji before. But, just as with those past two times, Shinji listens intently. Even though he knows I'm not that much of an academic, that I have no interest in medicine whatsoever, that I don't want to become a pharmacist like either of my parents or my sister, manning the family shop before, during, and after school's over, doing the same things day in and day out, remaining here in this town I grew up and never even venturing outside Miyagi.

But this time, to my surprise, Shinji asks a question when I've said my piece. "So what _do_ you want to do, then?"

I withhold one answer ("You," which would definitely earn me a dry look even from kindhearted Shinji who has the utmost patience with me) and give it some thought…and, three seconds later, I know one thing about which I'm certain. "Is it too cheesy to say that I want to be with you?"

Shinji coughs—he always does that when he's embarrassed—and presses his lips together in a thin line. "Matsukawa-san…"

I can see the tip of his nose turning red, and I take encouragement from that. "Then, while I'm being cheesy… Yeah, I know I want to be with you. Forever, y'know?" I sit up and cup my cheek in my palm, feeling more comfortable the more Shinji resembles a tomato. He's so cute, I just want to tease him more with what I realize is my honesty. "I want to make you happy and give you everything and show you that you mean the world to me." Really, I mean it. Shinji does. When I asked him out at the end of the last school year, he was super confused by it. And I've tried to explain to him since then that it's a bunch of things that I find attractive about him: those parts of him which he shows only to me, the fact that he's more affectionate than he lets on, his kindness, how he has a hard time keeping his emotions off his face…

…except that last concept is cause for concern as I spy the downward twitch at the corners of his mouth before he actually frowns.

I feel as though someone's just dumped ice water on me.

"Matsukawa-san…" He continues to frown as he shakes his head, but he meets my eyes at least. "How do you know I'm the world to you when you haven't seen the world?"

I pout automatically.

"I mean, we're just teens…" He bites his lower lip and hastily waves his hands at me. "Don't worry: I'm not against us dating for as long as possible! But…"

Crap. Does there always have to be a "but"?

"I just… Don't…don't take us so seriously, please. Not when we're both new to this. Not when we haven't really experienced love before."

I want to retort. I want to correct him. Hell, I wish I had it in me to raise my voice like Hanamaki or Iwaizumi…but that's not me. I'm too easygoing for my own good.

And seeing Shinji's sincerity also shuts me up. His frown tells me he doesn't like what he believes either, and him scratching the back of his neck tells me he's terrified. But of what? My reaction? That I can't handle us having different viewpoints?

But I get it. Even not knowing how I'd take it…he trusts me enough to hear him out, and I realize that, even though we view the future differently, maybe I was wrong. Maybe I'm not the only one in love in this relationship.

But I'd be lying if I said my heart isn't breaking as the silence gets drawn out between us.

I don't trust my voice, so I nod. Relief floods through me seeing the tension leave his shoulders.

"Ahh, Matsukawa-san…" His eyes crinkle, and his smile's the brightest it's ever been. It's so easy to let that smile distract me, to follow the new topic he brings up, to push my worries aside.

Because the nighttime is meant for worrying.

\- ^-^3

My fingers do a lot over the next several weeks. They block hundreds of balls, they take more notes than they're used to, they clench and unclench countless times, and they find their way to Shinji's more often than not.

After the loss to Karasuno, my family is relieved to think volleyball is behind me, but at least Kako has the decency to express her sadness on my part for the loss. A time or two, we even watch a movie together when our parents are out, and she seems to think that our togetherness is the cure for the funk I'm in.

But, smart as my older sister is, she couldn't be more wrong.

The thing is, Shinji's words still sting. And they highlight the difference in our personalities. I'm stupid like our friends…a dreamer, I guess. And Shinji…is a realist. He's not a blunt guy, but he's organized and logical and thinks things through—all the things I'm not.

Ah, probably more reasons I'm in love with him.

It's not until the winter break is fast approaching that Shinji brings up that discussion. Hiding out in the library together since I can't use the excuse of practice after school any more to spend more time with him, he sits across from me at one of the window-adjacent tables in the back corner of the room. And he just brings it up point-blank: "Matsukawa-san…are you upset with me?"

I blink slowly at him, but he knows I'm crap at playing dumb. I know exactly what he's talking about. "Not really."

He twists his lips around and reaches for my hand. He's never been bothered by PDA, much to my surprise. "Then why have you looked so far-off, so lost in your thoughts since then?"

Have I? …huh. Well, Shinji's not wrong. Not exactly. But what I've been drumming up the courage to say…it makes me nervous. I've been thinking about it since that night, and I've been weighing the pros and cons of saying it to him, and I'm debating the outcome if I say it outright now, especially seeing his concern so plainly on his face.

But if I wasn't a guy who didn't mind taking the plunge every now and then, I never would've had Shinji then, would I?

So I purse my lips, take a breath, and let it out: "I'm head-over-heels for you, Shinji."

He's taken aback and reddens immediately from head to toe. He doesn't point out the use of his first name, which I don't even realize until the next day anyway.

I forge ahead. "And I know you might not want to hear this. But it's the truth. It's how I feel, and it's not going to change." I lean across the table, tugging on the hand that took mine hostage, and I smile slowly, warmly, gently, because this is _Shinji_ , and he deserves the best of me. "I love that you think the opposite of me…that maybe there are other paths for us. And it's okay to feel that way. It's…okay not to have faith in us," I continue, though that statement's the only one that feels like sludge on my tongue. Nevertheless, I reach my main point: "It's all right. I'll just have to have enough faith for the both of us."

I don't mean to, but a choked laugh erupts from me, and I stifle it enough so that the library committee members don't take notice of us, nor any of the other few students in there either, for that matter. And Shinji looks so red maybe he's ready to pass out.

But he doesn't. Instead, something I've not witnessed before appears in his glittering eyes: hope. And when he leans across the table to kiss me, I think that maybe, just maybe, there's nothing unfair left in our relationship, not when he trusts me enough to believe that I mean what I said. So I take a little hope from that, too.

\- ^-^3

 **Cuties. :3 It's been a VERY long time since I wrote in first person…but I like how this turned out? Especially reading through it fully a second time to edit. :') I really wanted to show a Matsukawa who was so clearly in love with Watari. But I had this idea because I think so many stories (and teenagers, in general) tend to idealize every love as The One, and I wanted to write something different. Watari's not a pessimist but a realist. Still, I think Matsukawa has a point, to give it their all and hope for the best, y'know? :') Aaaand because I can't help myself, read the sequel from Watari's POV, which is also up: "Content Adult." Btw, a Matsukawa who feels like the younger one in the relationship is very cute to me. -w- And I finally got the chance to work in my headcanon about Matsukawa's family. :D Though giving him a sister came out of nowhere…but, ah, well. Ahhh, Matsuwata feelsssssss.**

 **Thank you very much for reading, and please review! Check out my other [** _ **HQ!**_ **] fics, too, if you liked this! And visit me on tumblr (le-amewzing) for some Matsuwata art, as well!**

 **-mew-tsubaki -w-**


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